The Many Wives of John Smith
by Nancy Brown
Summary: The Doctor is having a row with his wife. (No, the other one.)


Warnings/Spoilers: set between TWoRS and TATM.  
AN: Written for Trope Bingo square: locked in

* * *

"She's cycling," says the Doctor, as if that's an explanation of any sort.

"She's annoyed with you," says River. "I told you not to skim so close to that white hole."

"It was a white hole! One of the most spectacular sights, and rarest, in the galaxy. We had to get a closer look."

Amy tunes out their squabbling. In some ways, she finds the banter sweet. Her daughter has no qualms about telling the Doctor off, a trick Amy has only learned gradually. And there's something to be said for how delightfully flustered the Doctor gets when River scolds. He's annoyed, and off-guard, and (Amy is a bit freaked out by this) also a mite turned on. She just knows that once she and Rory have wandered off to their room, her daughter and her son-in-law are going to have sex right here in the control room.

Amy makes a face. Rory looks up at her, from where he sits watching the viewscreen of the receding white hole. "Stop it."

"What?"

"Thinking what you're thinking. Or I'll start thinking about it." Sure enough, Rory's features are melting from the calm, introspective expression he gets over the science stuff, and contorting into his more pensive, "My daughter is older than I am, and was my other best mate, and now she's having sex with the alien my wife obsessed over my entire life" face.

Amy sits down next to him, and she plants a kiss on his stupid face until the lines smooth out.

"More with the mouths," says the Doctor.

River says, "Mouths are fun, dear," and his burning glance back to her is enough for Amy.

"Well then," she says, standing up quickly and dusting off her jeans. "How long are we locked into orbit?" She doesn't point out they are also locked into the control room. There's no point.

The Doctor says,"When she's finished her power-up cycle."

"When he apologises."

The Doctor folds his arms in a gesture Amy instantly recognises as a classic "husband thinks he's right and has just extended the row by another two hours" pose.

Rory, intentionally or not also extending the length of his own later torment, says, "That one time when we almost had two Amys? I take it back. I do not want two wives. Ever."

River fixes him with a glare. "Not helping, Dad."

Amy smacks Rory, with love, on the back of his head. "Not a good time."

"No, it's a perfect time. Doctor, your misses, plural, are annoyed with you. Now isn't the time to stand on principle."

"Plural," Amy says, mostly to herself. "How many young ladies have you had on board, gallivanting around the galaxy with you?"

The TARDIS immediately changes her hum. Amy gets a sudden sense of claustrophobia as she's surrounded by dozens of holographic images of women. "Oh my God." The faces are impassive, almost freakishly so, and a scrawl of terror makes its way up her back until Rory scrambles to his feet and grabs her hand, shock on his face.

Strangely, River doesn't look at all surprised. "Met her," she says, strolling past the rows of faces in every kind of dress and suit. "Met her twice."

Rory, now that he has his bearings, begins scanning the room. "That one's a bloke. That one, too."

"Oh, he's pretty," Amy says to a fellow across the way.

The Doctor, already flustered at the ghostly company, spins, mouth open to say something. When he sees who she's pointing to, his mouth snaps shut. After a moment, he says, "And far less of an idiot than I thought, too."

Rory has let go of her hand and is walking through the rows. Amy is abruptly distracted away from the holograms by the strange image: Rory is examining each face, and passing along, in exactly the same fashion River is. It's funny, and sad. Her heart breaks a little all over again, as it does each time they run into Melody now.

"Turn it off," she says to the TARDIS, in a request. The images blink out. Curiously, the Doctor stays staring into space, where someone would have stood a moment before. She wonders which ghost he was still seeing. She wonders when it will be her turn to stand, emotionless and dead, as he ponders his past.

"He's sorry about the white hole," Amy says to the TARDIS console, petting it like a kitten. "He's just being stupid."

There's another hum. The lights flicker, and the doors reappear. "Thank you," says Amy. The Doctor disappears below with his screwdriver in hand. Hopefully he's on his way to make amends, and not get them all shot out into space without an air corridor.

"She likes you," River says, coming to stand next to her. "She likes most of his companions. She doesn't like to see him lonely." She gives a little nod to Rory, who clears his throat, mumbles about something, and heads out to another room.

Amy looks at her daughter, then down to the console. "Doesn't it bother you to know how many women came before you? Or blokes?"

"Don't you mean, doesn't it bother me to consider how many will come after I'm gone?"

"That, too." Amy's rattled, more than she wants to admit. Robots. Young girls in their teens. She thinks she saw a penguin, even. She's not the first woman to take this trip. River won't be the last.

"No," River says, her hand stroking the console the same way Amy's had. "I'm like her. I don't want to see him lonely, either." A sly smile crosses her features. "Besides, some of them were rather good-looking, don't you think?"

Amy's eyebrows raise. "Melody Pond, you never."

"Oh Mum, I have, but I swear not to tell you about it. Agreed?"

"What's that?" the Doctor's voice asks from below them, now that he's no longer pretending not to eavesdrop.

"Nothing, dear," River laughs, deep like the hum of the Vortex.

* * *

The End

* * *

My three favourite words are, "I liked this."


End file.
